Interrogation (Star Wars Fiction)

Gently, Keeto placed the pack into place. While it wasn't connected to the rest of the bomb, yet, the gel inside was unstable enough that it could still go off if mishandled.

From behind him, someone yelled, "BOOM!"

He screamed, almost dropping the pack. "Idiot!" he yelled, starting to rise for his chair. "You could have killed..." He stopped, mid-sentence, as a blaster was pressed to the base of his skull.

"Sit down, Keeto. Slowly." The voice was female, with the clipped tones of someone from Dromund Kaas. Hands up, he did as she said. "You make bombs for terrorists. Bombs they use against the good citizens of the Empire. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just shoot you, right here, right now."

"Umm... Because murder is illegal?" He forced his voice to remain calm, but he was anything but.

"Keeto, Keeto," she chided. "Let me explain something. I'm with Imperial Intelligence. I could shoot you in the back of the head, and make it look like suicide. I could throw you down a flight of stairs, in front of a dozen witnesses, and make it look like an accident I could..."

Games annoyed Keeto. "Okay okay!" he snapped. "I get it! What do you want?"

He gulped. "Yes, ma'am." Keeto took a deep breath. "How may I help you?"

"Your employer, the Trandoshan, Klazen, is looking to blow up some Imperial targets. We need to know where they are, and where he is."

'Great,' he thought. 'Either I get killed by her, or killed by an ex-Hutt enforcer.' "If I tell you, what do I get out of it?"

She grabbed one of his antennae and yanked his head back, the blaster digging painfully into his neck. "You get to keep breathing, alien worm!" she growled.

"Okay!" he screamed. "I'll tell you! Just, please, promise you'll get to him before he gets to me!"

"Not a worry. He won't get to you. I give you my word."

"And how do I know you'll keep..."

"Because I haven't killed you, yet, you scum. Now, where is he?" She yanked harder on his antenna.

"Ow! All right! He's on Ord Mantell! I don't know what he's going after, but you'll find him there1"

"Where on Ord Mantell?"

"I don't know!" He could feel a trickle of blood where the barrel was digging in. "I swear! But how many seven-foot lizards can there be there?"

She let go of him, and he felt the pressure on his neck ease off. "Good point. Now, then." She threw something on the desk. "This is a transmitter. You will count slowly, to 100. I will be able to hear you, the whole time. If you stop counting, try to tamper with the transmitter, or even think of looking at me before I leave, I will come back, cut you into tiny little pieces, and make it look like a tragic shaving accident, Clear?"

He nodded, and started counting as he heard he leave.

Outside, Sinine, Chiss bounty hunter extraordinaire, joined up with her partner, Rolaz. "How'd it go?" he asked her.

As they walked down the street, she told him, "Well, we've got a destination, at least. I do love playing the part of an Imperial assassin, but, damn, that accent is hard on my jaw."

"And our little scumbag friend?"

"Oh, right. One second." She pressed a button on her armband. From the building she had just exited, an explosion took out the top floor, debris raining down on terrified passers-by.

With out breaking stride, Rolax said, "Bomb-making is a dangerous profession."

"I hate terrorists," Sinine grumbled. "Let's get off this rock. That bounty's not going to catch itself."